


And then there was One (gen version)

by delorita



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015), Being Human (UK)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Extended Scene, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, No Romance, Short One Shot, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5653246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/pseuds/delorita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I absolutely LOVED Aidan as Philip Lombard!!!! I think he is superyummy even with his completely different look *licks lips* And at the second viewing the tuxedo scene made me think of John Mitchell, so this story idea took shape in my head. There will be another version up too.</p><p>    Thank you to my beloved LadyLuna for the betareading and cheering :D</p>
    </blockquote>





	And then there was One (gen version)

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely LOVED Aidan as Philip Lombard!!!! I think he is superyummy even with his completely different look *licks lips* And at the second viewing the tuxedo scene made me think of John Mitchell, so this story idea took shape in my head. There will be another version up too.
> 
> Thank you to my beloved LadyLuna for the betareading and cheering :D

Mitchell groans as he feels the tide slowly rise around him.

 _Stupid, so utterly stupid._ He thinks as he gets to all fours, not able to stand after the amount of blood he’s lost. _Why in hell did I trust Vera? Turning my back on her with the gun tugged into my belt. What beginner’s mistake was that? Women!_

He proceeds towards the rocky part of the shore inch by inch, hoping he’ll make it to the house without passing out again. He hates this feeling of being on the verge of starving. 

_She’ll be a nice dinner … or is it lunch?_ He’s lost orientation of time completely. It’s not dark though. 

After her shooting him he has no second thoughts anymore to feed on her. To kill her. She deserves to be dead. She must have been the one who created this whole charade. She killed him. She must have killed that boy too. She killed all of them. He has no idea how she managed that yet but he’ll find out. He’s got all the time in the world. 

He liked this game. He liked to be Philip Lombard again. The gun for hire. He’d murdered twenty one men … and more … of course more. He’s been a vampire for twenty two years now and enjoys it. Herrick has done a pretty good job in teaching him to love the killing. To play games with his pray. To move about in the world of the living without drawing suspicion to himself. 

So when he got the letter to be on an island as some kind of house guard, he welcomed the challenge. He liked the strangeness of the situation immediately and pretty Vera was a wonderful toy. Marsden would have been too if they wouldn’t have killed him so early on … well if _she_ wouldn’t have killed him that early. 

Mitchell grabs for a seagull, sinks his fangs into it and sucks it dry to get up the first part of the steep slope. He spits out the feathers in disgust. 

As he makes his way up the rest of the path he thinks back how he’d had them all in a twist about his gun. He chuckles softly, grabbing for another bird. If they’d known he could have been the killer all along…

Near the house he gets to his feet and tries to walk, imagining the sweet taste of Vera’s blood he’d felt pulsing beneath her skin last night. If not for his need to get to the bottom of the puzzle, he’d have had her for dinner already. He licks his lips, still tasting her sweet fragrance on them faintly.

The door isn’t properly closed as he reaches for it weakly. _Twenty men would be the right amount of blood right now again._ Mitchell thinks to himself as he hears a bump upstairs when he enters the hallway. He hides swiftly when he hears someone come downstairs, realising immediately that they are a man’s heavy footsteps. He risks a glance from his hiding place and his eyes grow wide.

_Judge Wargrave! What the fuck?!_

Mitchell frowns. With all the others around he must have failed to still feel his heartbeat when the motherfucker made them think he was shot. 

A little shocked and puzzled he leaves him be for the moment and heads silently upstairs. His libido had kicked in and he hoped to have a nice fuck with his lunch but his instinct tells him it might be too late for that.

“Goddamn shit,” he curses under his breath when he sees Vera bucking and gurgling, hanging from the ceiling. He swiftly cuts her down. _I hate dead blood! Fuck!_

“Ph...phi…” He hears her stutter, holding her in his arms for a moment, feeling some live flood back into her again as soon as she can draw breath, her eyes huge in their sockets. He lowers her to the floor and shakes his head, letting his fangs drop.

Her eyes grow even wider, the feeble attempt of pushing him away caught by his hands. “Mitchell, you bitch,” he growls and licks his lips, marvelling in the utter fear that increases now again, coursing through her slender body, making her almost lifeless blood smell a bit more alluring. 

“You thought you’d killed me? Hm?” He stares at her with his coal black eyes, feeling her shiver and shake uncontrollably. “You can’t kill me,” he hisses, enjoying her panic, laughing at the attempt of her shaking her head. “But I am going to kill you now for sure, murderer,” he says coldly and he sinks his fangs into the soft flesh that’s hiding the very slowly pulsing vein in her neck.

As soon as that life force hits his tongue, he starts to drink greedily, tasting the near death experience she has just had. _Tastes a little foul._ He gulps the blood down anyway, needing badly it to sustain his own body. 

She doesn’t struggle at all, just whimpers a few times, her hands cramped into his shirt. _It would have been so much nicer while having sex though,_ Mitchell regrets but doesn’t feel the need to put his dick into a corpse. Instead he lets go and marvels in the blood rush that death brings, drinking and drinking, sucking the life out of her until no drop is left.

A shot rings through the empty house and gets him out of his trance immediately. 

_Stupid Wargrave._

Mitchell leaves the dead body of Vera be and runs down the stairs, still feeling the need for more blood. 

He finds the judge in the dining room. The old moron shot himself through the throat. 

_Fuck, that is no fun to drink from._ He draws his hand across his mouth in disgust, knowing how terrible blood like this tastes all stained from the sudden death.

_How the fuck did he do that the first time around anyway and wasn’t dead?_

Mitchell frowns, suddenly not interested in the game anymore. If he doesn’t find a way off this island, he might have to feed from dead bodies for a few weeks. His gut is revolting thoroughly at the thought. 

And even less appealing is swimming through the cold sea. He would not drown or freeze but it would still be a bit of a hassle.

Mitchell grabs one of the bottles of rum from last nights party and slowly makes his way towards the cliffs. The storm has died down now and the sight over the ocean is pretty good. _I could light a fire ..._ he thinks when his keen eyes suddenly discover a sailing boat in the far distance... F I N 


End file.
